On A Dark Desert Highway
by Jeanny
Summary: Spike shares some hidden truths with a catatonic Buffy. (Interlude between The Possibility of Friendship and Who Your Friends Are) (Takes place after Spiral)


Title: On A Dark Desert Highway

Author: Jeanny

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Season 5 Through Spiral.

Feedback: Please! jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Summary: Spike shares some hidden truths with a catatonic Buffy. (Interlude between The Possibility of Friendship and Who Your Friends Are)

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. Joss and Co. own them, plus my eternal gratitude. I'm merely borrowing them and trying to have some fun.

Author's Note: The title is the first line of the Eagles' Hotel California, for no reason other than it evokes that trapped feeling for me...I don't own that either, please don't sue me Eagles! Also, if you haven't read my story The Possibility of Friendship, a lot of this isn't going to make much sense (hint hint).

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He was alone with her. He wasn't really sure if any of the others even realized that they had left the two of them together, but it was so. Once they'd brought her back inside, Anya had gone to see to Giles as he was coming around, and Willow was trying to calm Tara, who still throwing some kind of fit. Xander was checking the perimeter, out amid the carnage, trying to see if there were any clues to where Glory might have gone. Spike almost chuckled to himself at the thought of Xander Harris, Ace Detective, then sobered immediately when he looked at Buffy's blank expression. Soon he would go outside and try to find them a way out of there. Start that car, he knew he could. Soon he would force himself to be strong, be brutal, be the evil vampire everyone knew and barely stood the sight of. But for now...for now he was sitting looking at the face of his failure. Even with that lost and empty look, it was still the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Reaching out to touch her hair gently, he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that had suddenly found its way there.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy. It's all gone wrong, you see. I thought I was doing right, I did. Maybe I...I don't really know. I don't know anything anymore."

He paused, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, then had to look away. There was a time, not too long ago, when it had occurred to him that he'd never get tired of looking at her, but now it was hard. That blank, dead look in her eyes. He wanted to hit her, shake her, do something that would snap her out of it. But he also wanted to hold her to him and reassure her and maybe kiss her until she couldn't breathe, and maybe...best not to go there right now. An idea popped into his head, a crazy one, but probably better than hitting her or...the other things he might want to do to her, but couldn't, not now, not here, probably not ever. He got up close to her again, putting his lips almost against her ear. When he spoke again, it was in a soft low voice that was practically a whisper, in case one of the others should approach. He didn't want any of them to overhear what he had to say.

"Wanna hear something funny, Slayer? This'll tickle you, I know, but guess what? I had me own prophecy! Bet that surprises you, seeing as I'm not all brooding and hulking and I don't have stupid hair, but I did. The Watcher girl, Lydia, she came and told me herself. I just didn't say anything, because...well, she said I couldn't. Soddin' birthday wish of a prophecy, I had. Say a word about it and it won't come true." Spike smirked as if she had made a sarcastic reply. Talking to her this way wasn't that different from talking to the mannequin head he had fetched from the dump, except she was warm and alive and smelled like...well, like Buffy.

"You're right, it is typical of me, isn't it. Guess what? The prophecy was about you, too. You and your band of friends...all in trouble see, and who had to rescue them? Old Spike, that's who! Called me the Slayer's Dark Knight...no, I know you'd like to call me something else, but that's what it said." Suddenly he slumped forward, wearily. He was sure that she'd be talking back to him by now, hearing the story he'd been keeping to himself. Now that he had begun to confess, he found he needed to say it all. The whole truth. The truth about himself that he'd never been able to admit.

"Know what else is? I messed up, Buffy. All those times I tried to kill you, I failed. Then I tried to save you, and I failed at that too. And I didn't save your mum...I don't know if I was supposed to save her, but I might've been. Think I was. And now that stupid bitch's got your sis, and you've gone on holiday in your head, Slayer. You can't do this. Buffy, please come back. It's time to fight now. Buffy, I promise you we'll get Dawn back and I won't let you down again..." He pulled away and gave her another look. Was that a glimmer of recognition in her eyes? Had she heard what he'd said? He leaned in a bit and frowned. "Trick of the light," he murmured to himself, frustration and a little panic making his voice rise in anger. "I know you're in there, Slayer! C'mon, yell at me, fight me, tell me I'm pathetic! You can't just sit there!"

"Spike!" He turned and saw Willow standing behind him, her faced sad and weary and not unsympathetic. "You said...you were going to try to start Ben's car?" He nodded, turning back to Buffy.

"I will, I..." Spike trailed off as Willow nodded, trying to exude a confidence that she clearly didn't feel.

"She'll be fine, Spike, she'll snap out of it any minute now. I mean, she has to." Spike looked at the witch, forcing his face to take on his patented 'I don't much care what happens to any of you' expression. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a pale Xander return, looking immediately to see what was happening with Buffy. Spike simply nodded at Willow and walked towards the door. He knew the time to be strong had come. He would work his own magic on the car, and they would get out of there and get to Dawn. As he left the room he felt the weight of Buffy's blank stare. He knew she wasn't watching him go. She didn't see him at all. But he needed to feel like she was, like she would again. 

Spike struggled to overcome his lingering doubts. Of course, the witch was right. Buffy'd snap out of it any minute now. She was the Slayer, after all. Slayers are strong, and brave, and sometimes they dance with the darkness. Spike cast aside that thought as he stepped out into the cool desert night. The Slayer would be fine. She would be fine. He would see to it. He wasn't her Dark Knight for nothing, after all. He wasn't for nothing. 

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